


You Ruin Me.

by KindleKane88



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Acknowledged Canonical Character Death, Broken Stiles Stilinski, Dark Stiles, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Baggage, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Rimming, Self-Destructive Stiles, Slight Spanking, Stiles uses Peter to deal with the aftermath of the nogitsune, Top Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindleKane88/pseuds/KindleKane88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles looked in the mirror, he saw nothing. Just a darkness. There was nothing in him, nothing that belonged to him or feels the least bit familiar. He’s been tainted, taken, just a vessel for unwanted things. </p><p>All he can feel is the constant need to rip himself apart. </p><p>And Peter's sharp enough to cut him. The best worst way to throw himself away. The final act. </p><p> Stiles might even love him, in the way that person can love the thing that kills them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Ruin Me.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try my hand a darker, more mature fic. 
> 
> This fanfic takes it name (and concept) from the song You Ruin Me by The Veronica's and from Love Gone Wrong by Rose Ave.

 

_"Play me till your fingers bleed_

_I'm your greatest masterpiece_

_You ruin me." - The Veronica's_

* * *

 

Pretending to be a better person than he is exhausting; having to make a constant effort to produce behavior that doesn’t match his mental state.

Stiles is sick of having to plaster a smile on his face and pretend that everything is fine.

_That’s he’s fine._

He is far from fine. He is hollow, empty, and more broken than ever before. All his blunt edges, turned sharp and stretched too thin over his skin. Everyone’s pretends not to notice. Its easy to still love him if they look away.

As his mother used to say: It’s easy to love the pieces you haven’t seen break.

When Stiles looked in the mirror, he saw nothing. Just a darkness. There was nothing in him, nothing that belonged to him or feels the least bit familiar. He’s been tainted, taken, just a vessel for unwanted things.

All Stiles can feel is the constant need to rip himself apart. He wanted to be able to reach inside himself out and dig out the darkness, all those rotting pieces left behind in evil’s wake.

Something inhuman crawls underneath his skin and he wants to scratch out it out. That’s why he can never get warm anymore: he’s dead inside. Rotting, festering, dead thing.

 _Like Allison._ He pushes that thought down as deep as it can go.

He’s here because he knows Peter won’t refuse him. He’ll play the part he was given. He would do it simply because he could, because to Peter there was power in destruction, beauty in breaking something.

 _It takes one to know one._ That’s just another thought Stiles has to push down.

Stiles downfall was Peter’s masterpiece. He liked to see Stiles cracked and crumbled at his feet, a ruin on its knees. Peter drank it in with monstrous pleasure. It fascinated him.  Peter was going to self-destruct sooner or later and that's what Stiles liked. If he was lucky Peter would take Stiles down with him.

He sought Peter out because he needs someone sharp enough to cut him. And, Peter’s the best and the worst way to throw himself away.

He knows Peter can taste his weakness in every kiss and that’s what gets him off.  He knows that Stiles wants him.  That Stiles might even love him, in the way that person can love the thing that kills them.

Peter revels in the fact that Stiles hates him. Loves his, misery- feeds on it. Stiles is everything he wishes he wasn't but he can't stop himself because he needs the pain Peter gives him. Craves it even.

It's better then feeling nothing.

It’s not gentle or loving. There’s no love in this mess. Just addiction, need and desire. Just rough, desperate, frantic fucking, leaving each other with scratches and bites when it’s over. In a twisted way, Stiles think that’s his punishment for the pain he caused as the Nogtinsune. Something that aches and hurts and he can feel for days even after he is free of the room that smells like sex, regret, guilt, and shame.

 

“Take your clothes off.”

 

Stiles shivered at his hard voice, so dark and wicked, so husky it seemed to vibrate from the very depths of his chest. It was rough and guttural and he couldn’t halt the little shudder of pleasure that raced over her body.

 

 He licked his lips and glanced up at Peter as he moved around him, walking slowly to the bed and sitting down. The dimness of the room made him seem darker, stronger somehow, as though that were possible.

 

“Take off your clothes. You don’t want me to have to cut them off.”

 

He barely restrained his moan.

 

 _Oh yes he did_.

 

“Start with the shoes. Take everything off very slowly.” He could barely breathe; his knees were shaking, his hands trembling with need.

 

He kicked his shoes off. That part was easy. His hands lifted to the button if his dress shirt and there his battle began.

 

He struggled with the tiny buttons, his fingers slipping, becoming uncooperative as Peter continued to watch him with sharp blue eyes. His gaze flickered up, his breath catching as he rose to his feet.

 

“Are you trying to tease me?” Peter asked him, as wicked sensuality echoed in his voice.

 

“No.” He shook his head fiercely as Peter circled him. “I’m not.”

 

_He doesn’t have to be a werewolf to hear the lie._

 

Peter’s hand cupped the curve of his butt. “Such a liar. You know how hard my cock is, how eager I am to fuck you and you’re teasing me.”

 

His breath caught in his throat. _Yeah, that was it._

 

“No. I promise. I’m trying to be good,” He whispered breathlessly.

 

A second later a moan rippled from his throat as Peter’s hand landed firmly on the curve of his ass.

 

“You’ll have to pay for this,” he whispered at his ear then. “Put your hands behind your back, Stiles.”

 

 _Oh God. Oh God_.

 

He moved slowly, trembling in anticipation as he crossed his wrists at the small of his back.

 

“I’m going to enjoy this, Stiles,” Peter breathed at his ear. “Are you?”

 

He was going to come before Peter ever touched him at this rate. Stiles was panting by time he bound his wrists firmly behind his back, his belt holding Stiles fast as he tugged at the knot.

 

“Now, how are we going to get these clothes off you?”

 

He shuddered again, his breath catching in his throat as his tongue licked over the mark on his neck, Peter’s hands smoothing down his stomach until he was cupping him.

 

“Any suggestions?” he asked Stiles, his grip hard and rough and moving so tortuously slow Stiles almost begged.

 

The sound of fabric ripping tore through the room as Peter jerked his dress shirt free of the buttons anchoring it. Peter’s hands dragged it over his shoulders, his teeth scraping at his mark on his neck.

 

“I’m going to make you scream for me Stiles.”

 

That sounded damned good to him. Heat was moving through his body, searing his nerve endings and setting fire to every cell he possessed.

 

“Please… Please… Please…” He was begging, willing to cry, whatever it took to get what he needed.

 

His tongue curled around his shoulder blade, drawing the skin into his mouth, sucking another bruising mark into his skin before Peter bit down hard enough to draw blood.

 

He chuckled then, withdrawing and stepping behind him. Within minutes Peter’s claws had cut every shred of clothing from his body. Kneeling behind him, Peter pulled the ruined pieces of his boxers away from him, then kissed the cheek of his rear before scraping his teeth over it firmly.

 

“Peter,” He moaned roughly, his knees trembling as he fought to stay on his feet.

 

Peter was running his hands up and down his thigh, rasping across his flesh as his tongue flickered over the narrow valley between the cheeks of his ass.

 

“Bad men get punished,” he whispered as his tongue tautened and pressed between the cheeks he was tormenting, leaving a path of fire in its wake as his hand slid higher on his thigh. He heard the snap of cap and the stuttered sigh from Peter, that let know what was about to happen.

 

“It’s time to begin your punishment, Stiles.”

 

 _Oh God yes. Finally. Finally_.

 

“Spread your legs.” Peter was breathing hard now, the heated whisper of his breath caressing his buttocks.

 

Stiles shifted, spreading his legs wider, moaning as his hand slid just a little higher coming close and closer…

 

“Damn it Peter!” He cursed roughly, when he abruptly removed his hand

 

“Did I say you could speak?” Harsh, guttural, his voice snapped out as Peter’s hand landed on his butt. The small, tingling slap had him pressing back against Peter, his hands twisting behind him desperately as more pleasure spread through his body

 

“Beg for it,” he ordered her harshly. “Beg me to fuck you, Stiles”

 

“Fuck me,” He gasped, knowing that only the arm that had returned around his hips was holding him upright. “Please, Peter, please fuck me.”

 

Then he was sliding his fingers slowly, deeply inside him as a wail of pleasure shattered the silence of the room. No matter how he pleaded, how he begged for more, Peter moved so painfully slow, his fingers stroking and curling in the places he knew would bring Stiles to his knees.

 

“You aren’t allowed to come yet,” Peter whispered at his ear before moving in front of him.

 

“I’ll be good,” He cried desperately. “I promise, Peter. I’ll be so good.”

 

“Will you?” He removed his shirt quickly as he kicked his shoes free. “Let’s see how good you can be.”

 

His pants were removed slowly, the thick, engorged length of his cock revealed as he tossed the material aside.

 

“On your knees, Stiles. Show me what a good boy you can be.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second fanfic so I appreciate any and all advice, comments or criticism. Thanks for taking the time to read this fic.


End file.
